Steel to my Lips

Outside, the wind keeps things fresh, driving the faint rain against the city.

Inside the Ox, the ale flows, and questionable food is had. The crowd, while not large, is noisy enough to make up for it. Most of the noise comes from the impromptu card game that sees three tables pushed together, where a dozen sailors bet on a game of poker played by four regulars.

The rest of the clientele are huddled at the bar, drinking and trying to ignore the poker game, with varying success.

At the pot bellied stove, a bedraggled Gobbo slurps something hot out of a large bowl, eating as if the world were ending in five minutes.

A man sits at the bar drinking a glass of whiskey as though they're shots. One smooth motion down the throat and gone. He orders drink after drink, but doesn't seem to be eating anything. His eyes which are a notable purple color are a bit glassy around the edges. As though he's been on the edge of drunkenness for a while. He doesn't really talk to any of the other customers, and is ignoring the game of cards aside from a glance or two when things get a little louder.

A little belch at the man's side precedes the arrival of the bowl plunking down on the bar next to him. Followed by a scratchy little voice demanding more! "And a glass of uhm..."

The Goblin's noise wrinkles, and she peers at Aragos' glass. "Of whatever he's drinking."

Murder pulls herself up onto the vacant stool and settles. A few of the furs covering her from head to foot drip a little, and there are wet footprints leading from the comfortable chairs to the bar.

"Whiskey." The man says in a dour voice, his eyes flickering toward Murder only briefly. His comment seems as much a demand for more of the drink as it might be an explanation of what he's drinking. He pushes his cup forward for more with his fingers and the bartender looks at him.

"You've got a bill coming due here pretty soon sir, you got money?"

The man glares at the bartender in reply, then reaches into his long black coat to pull out a gold piece and lay it on the counter. "Whiskey." He says again, this time more firmly.

Little green fingers reach for the coin, and slide it back towards the man.

The Gobbo grins toothily at the bartender. "Iffn a man is laying gold on your counter, you know he's good for a few drinks.", she says quietly. "Two whiskeys. One for him an' one for me. And another bowl of that curry."

The gold coin, is lifted to her mouth and quickly bitten, before being offered to Aragos, little teeth marks obvious over the coin's design. "Is real gold even." On the counter, the coin is replaced by coppers and silvers.

The man seems to consider a moment before taking his gold back. Tucking it back into the same pocket that it came out of while the bartendeer huffs and whisks away the coins that Murder put down. Their drinks are brought back quickly and the dark-haired man sitting beside the goblin picks his up and stares at the amber liquid for a fair minute before downing it like all the rest. He makes a soft sigh that's almost lost to the sound of the bar around them. "Appreciate the drink."

Her food isn't long behind the drinks, and she's four or five bites in when Aragos thanks her for the drink. Her ears perk up a little and she shrugs. "You're most welcome. You new to the place? Ain't seen you around before."

The Gobbo eyes the man for a moment, before remembering her curry, and she begins greedily devouring it.

"Yea." Says the man, obviously the talkative sort. He sighs and eyes the card table as a cheer goes up around it, and the look is not a friendly one. More like the sort you give right before a fight breaks out. He shakes his head though, and turns his eyes back toward the bartender. Real talkative.

Murder follows his gaze, and she snorts lightly.

"This is quiet, kind of, for this place. Some days, only one fight breaks out. Other days, not so much." She giggles a little, and sips at her whiskey. "You get used to it. I could show you a quieter place if you really want?"

The bartender glares at the Gobbo, and she replies by sticking out her tongue at the man, before going back to emptying her bowl.

Purple eyes slide back over to the goblin and there's suspicion in them. Uncertainty. "This place have alcohol?" His eyes are surprisingly steady given that he's had so much to drink, his gaze saying he's prepared for anything. That he doesn't trust her.

The Gobbo blinks and then leans up closer to the man's face, the smell of spices, whiskey and sulfur on her breath. "You've got purples eyes!", she says, looking excited. Grinning, she shrugs. "Maybe it does, I don't know. But it's usually much quieter there. Unless they've got a band in. Which happens pretty often. And there are way fewer fistfights."

Murder pauses to slurp down a few mouthfuls of whiskey. "I don't think it matches your mood, though."

The man's eyes blink and he snorts at the goblin's comment about the color of his eyes. "Probably not." That's in answer to her comment about his mood though. "A fight sounds about right to me." He flashes his teeth, but it's not a smile. It's predatory. Angry really, even though he clearly doesn't know anyone here to be angry with them.

Her eyes widen slightly, and she grins. A grin full of teeth. "Oh! Well, I gots a place for you if you want ta fight! I'll fight ya!" Her expression falls slightly. "How many drinks have you had?", she wonders.

The Gobbo straightens, and polishes off the remaining curry, her drink following in a few loud gulps. Waving at her throat, she coughs a little. "Stuff always goes down like burning."

"It stops burning eventually." The man says, the last word a bit... careful. Big words are harder when you're enebriated. He looks at his glass and smiles at it almost fondly. "Don't rightly know how many. Enough. But not enough to fight a lady." He glances at the goblin. "Even one outfitted for a battle."

Her grin quickly turns upside-down, though it is still full of the same teeth. "It sounds like you're scared.", she growls. "But that is FINE. I wouldn't want to fight someone who's falling down drunk, anyways." A wee hand pushes her empty glass towards the bartender. "Another whiskey, barkeep."

Anger flashes through the man's eyes like a switch being flipped. "Scared? Of you?" He snorts and picks up her glass, downing the drink that the bartender had just poured for her down his throat and pointing toward the door. "Fine. You want a fight. I'll give you one."

Murder growls again as HER whiskey is downed by the purple-eyed stranger, and as he's gesturing to the door, she's already hopping from the stool and stomping towards the door.

She pauses mid-reach for the handle, and glances over her shoulder. "Wanna do this in the Colosseum? Much less likely to be arrested for brawling there than inna street."

The man is out of his chair also, moving with steps that are surer than they've a right to be if he's been drinking that much. He stomps toward the door and lets out a hollow little laugh as he catches up to her. "Wherever makes you feel better little lady. I don't much care." Apparently the thought of being arrested and spending a night or two in the gaol doesn't bother him much.

"I got stuff to do so yeah, jail would be a pain in the butt." Murder shoves the door open, and steps out into the rain. "Fine, follow me, then."

It is chilly, raining, and there's a miserably cold wind blowing in that makes being outside a terrible idea. None of it seem to matter to the man with his purple eyes and permanent scowl on his features. He is unfamiliar with the streets, but its not difficult to keep up with the goblin woman, and his mood hasn't lifted an inch since they left the tavern. If anything he seems in a worse mood for having spent so much time in the rain.

He scowls at the goblin's question and rolls his eyes. "A woman's, a woman's, a woman." He shrugs and pulls his massive blade off his back. He holds it easily, as though it's a part of him. He shrugs his coat off and he's covered in black armor. It's not the fanciest stuff, but it's certainly enough to make someone think twice about messing with him. "As for the rest? What makes it any of your business mmmm?"

Sister. Well, at least he has an explanation now of what the man thinks he is. Or whom. He shakes his head minutely, but he doesn't mind the confusion. Instead he follows Seldan's lead, nodding to the ruler of this place and gently inquiring. "Who do you sssee before you... brother?" It feels somewhat awkward to call someone he knows not brother, but he manages.

"Hoo boy. This city will change yer mind on that bit.", she says with a snort. "Sorry, I left the demon skull behind. But I can still show you the rest."

She rummages through one of the side pockets of her pack, and pulls out a skinny jalapeno pepper. This is immediately popped into her mouth, and crunched on. Some of the juices dribble out of the corners of her mouth.

She slowly pulls the great (in relation to her size) blade from her back.

"First blood? Or do I gotta knock you down?"

Growling, her eyes begin to glow red, and she utters a few words in Gobbo-squeak. With flames now licking at her lips from her mouth, she charges forward.

The man snorts at her words. Rolling his eyes but his gaze narrowing as she eats the pepper. More when she draws his weapon. He strikes up a defensive pose. Not trying to hit her at all, but rather putting everything he's got into keeping her at bay. "Magic is cheating." He grunts, swinging his blade down to block her impending blow.

GAME: Murder rolls weapon8: (11)+13: 24

Her blade is raised quickly and slams against his with a loud clang that echoes throughout the arena. It'd surely be followed by the roar of the crowd on a sunny day.

"Pfft. Is for show.", Murder snorts, turning her head to one side to belch a stream of fire up into the dark skies. "An' you feel free to tell th' monsters that magic is cheating. Not gonna change much. You gotta get used to it."

She hops back a few steps, her sword coming up guardedly.

He swings his blade back, not chasing after her but watching her guardedly. "Against a monster I expect trickery and dishonor. Even some of us cheat. But I figured you for a more honorable sort." The dark-haired man tilts his blade down. "You're better at this than I expected, but holding back is no favor."

"Generally fair fights are for suckers.", the Gobbo says with a shrug. "But I'd point out that I ain't using magic on ya."

Her posture changes, her blade pulled into a defensive position. "What honor are ya fighting for? Me, I'm just annoyed that ya think fighting a woman is above ya. Come at me, if ya think yer hard enough!"

The man stares at her and then suddenly laughs. Laughs so hard he has to stab his blade in the ground and lean against it. He laughs until little tears prickle at the edges of his eyes and it's just not funny anymore. Then he takes a gasping breath and stares at her with purple eyes that have no light in them. "Ain't got no honor left miss. Fighting a woman isn't beneath me. You could have cut me with that blow. I know a better warrior when I see one."

She sniffs, and with a flourish, spins her blade about and drives it into ground also. "Lucky hit?", she suggests with a shrug. Rubbing at her face, Murder grins. "I don't know if I am better 'n' you. But if you say so, sure, I accept that. But... what if I fight without the sword? Just me hands, no magics or tricks? If I can knock you down, I win. If you can draw blood, you win. Fair?"

He shakes his head and leans harder on the blade, crossing his feet and looking comfortable if grumpy. "What's the point? I'm not going to fight a woman. I was just hoping you'd get a shot in before you figured that out." He grins a little flash of teeth that's more angry than anything else.

The Gobbo growls again. "Why not!?", she yells, her voice echoing throughout the empty Colosseum. "You said you would! You say you ain't got honor left... so what is keeping you from fighting me?"

"I said I'd give you a fight, not that I'd fight you." He peers at her, something like satisfaction in his eyes. He's pleased to have irritated her, and that much is clear. "I told you before. I don't fight women." He shrugs. "But you can fight me if you want. I'll take whatever you've got."

"But... if you aren't going to fight, then it's not really a fight you're giving me.", the Gobbo says, confusion obvious in her expression. "If I wanted a punching bag, there's plenty below to train on. Yer a strange one, I'll give ya that."

Murder rubs at her cheek. "Why don't ya fight women, then? Give me that much, at least. If that's not too nosy t'ask?" The man leans back, shrugging. Not really arguing her statement, but clearly not agreeing with it either. He half lifts his blade. "It's personal. So yea. Too nosy to ask." He waggles his sword at her. "Sure you don't wanna blow off steam?"

The Gobbo tilts her head back, and huffs out a few more gouts of flame, before hiccoughing and sputtering smoke out her noise. "Gah!" She yanks her blade out of the ground. "So jus' I understand. Ye are going to stand there, basically, and let me hit you. Without attacking in return? Do ya know unsatisfying that sounds?"

"Oh, I'll defend myself. I don't intend to just let you hit me, but no. I won't strike you back." He wiggles his sword at her. "I could call you some names if that'll get you in the mood. Insult your parentage perhaps?" The man snorts.

"Heh.", she replies with a snort. "Name's Murder. I got no parents, they were killed when I was young. Got no family left, save for my twin. So uh, feel free to try insulting the dead. Don't think much will come of it." She carefully puts her sword into its spot on her back, and goes to retrieve her backpack. "S'no thrill in a fight iffn ya won't fight back. No risk, no fun. Not even worth showing off..."

The man waits for the goblin to put her blade away before burying his in the ground again and then bending over to pick up his coat. Once its in place he returns the blade and shrugs his shoulders at Murder. "If you insist." He sighs and looks back the way they came. "Long walk for more booze." He glances skyward. "But whatever."

"Are ya gonna melt?", the Gobbo says with a chuckle, heaving up her backpack into place. "It's not that bad. Plenny of places nearby with drinks. Think you can make it?"

She giggles and begins heading back the way they'd come.

"I'm not drinking with you unless you're buying." He states coldly, but follows in her wake. At least for the moment. He's not going to melt.

"Pfft. So ya won't fight me, but you want me to buy the drinks. What kinda honor are ya packing, exactly?" Murder laughs and shrugs her shoulders, making her backpack clatter.

"You have gold. Or is that yer only coin?"

All of the taverns and pubs around the city were just starting to pick up for the evening, with many finishing up all manner of work for the day. The warehouse district in particular relied much upon the light of the day, which meant that the Ox-strength was quickly becoming bustling with activity.

It was the best time to get the lay of the land, experience what the area was like, in Zofija's opinion. From the doors, a well dressed Arvek-nar strides in, quickly finding a place at one of the tables with her cap tucked under one arm. She stops and spins the chair she chose to keep an eye on the area, and keeping her back to one of the walls as she peruses one of the menus.

Dangling from the ceiling from within the Ox-Strength Tavern was that of a Egalrin woman in a plethora of veils and shawls. Them too, dangling upsidedown. As she was tied to the cross beam by the ankle.

Others are looking at her with an idle curiosity, but she's more or less blended into the background, as it was an accepted thing.

She is asleep at present, despite the odd angle.

The door opens suddenly, pushed hard and aided slightly by the wind and rain, slamming against the wall.

A Gobbo in leather and furs stalks in, and looks over her shoulder a moment, before she moves towards the bar.

The hanging birdlady has Murder staring upwards. "She wasn't there when we left...", she mumbles.

"I told you. None." He says the words coldly, walking into the tavern with a goblin by his side. "But I can pay my way." The man who speaks thusly, and with obvious irritation in his voice is a tall human man in armor mostly hidden beneath his long coat. There's a symbol of Vardama on his chest, and a massive greatsword strung over his back that has a bit of dirt and sand smudged on it. He himself smells like alcohol, but walks right up to the bar without a second glance around the bar.

"Whiskey." He grunts to the bartender whom stares at him and then looks at the goblin. "Who cares?" This in reference to the goblin's comment about the person hanging from the ceiling.

"Back so quick?" Asks the barkeep.

Perusing the menu gave Zofijah ample time to look around, and while she normally did not pay too much attention to the ceiling, seeing someone sleeping from it was strange enough to take her attention for a bit. "I didn't know they had sleeping arrangements here." The hobgoblin notes, offering the egalrin a wave, before turning her attention to the others coming in. Curious sorts always had a way of coming to these taverns, and it was a good idea to keep an eye on them for now.

The birdwoman startles awake with a squawk from the door slamming open, wings flapping once to keep herself from swinging too much. Once she realizes someone was waving to her, blue eyes focus in, and she's chuckling at the familiar Nar. "Mornin', sugar!" she chirps. "Or... is it still day?" she cranes her head to the windows. "Ah. Evening!"

"Oh this little coinkydink? Ah, well, lets say lil' ol' Slix won too many games of cards. The fine folk here didn't like it, so... I'm here!"

...

"Before you ask, yes, I can get myself down. This is rather comfy, hon." She curls up to start fussing with the knot holding her hostage from terra firma.

"Yeah. Whiskey for me too.", the Gobbo replies to the barman. "Turns out he don't fight women after all." She glares at Aragos, despite paying for his drink. "But at least he said I was the better warrior." At this, Murder grins toothily.

She looks then to the chicken dinner hanging from the ceiling. "Are they charging you to sleep here?", she wonders of Slixvah. A glance is spared to the Hobgobbo, before the Goblin looks back to Aragos. "You're not the only new face here, it seems."

The dark-haired man grunts, seemingly uncaring about anything but the drink coming his way. He settles into his barstool comfortably and accepts his drink when it comes around. "Quit complainin’ would ya?" He asks of Murder, picking up his cup and watching the light reflect off of it for a moment with obvious satisfaction. "I offered to give you a fight. I didn't promise to try and take your little head off."

His eyes flicker to the hobgoblin and he shrugs. "Don't know 'em."

"I wasn't going to ask, of course you can get yourself down, given the fact that you aren't beaten up implying it wasn't any of the patrons hanging you up there in the first place." The arvek-nar chuckles. "As long as you weren't actively cheating, just sounds like poor sports. Kind of why I tend to avoid games of chance. There's enough reasons to cause a commotion for some people in a bar as it is."

"Course you haven't seen me here before, it's the first time I've been to this tavern." She offers to the goblin. "Probably not the last, but the first at least. What's this about not fighting women?"

Slix giggles as a few knots come undone. "You're an analytical one, aren't you?" she surmises the hobgoblin's ocular pat down. "You know, I bet that lass the other night was really- ack!"

>Thud<

From the floor. "... I'm swell, loves!"

She pops back up, hands on her hips and chipper like nothing ever happened. "If they did, I'd have to ask for a new rope! This one was irritating my foot," she jests, sauntering over and sliding in next to the well dressed Nar without asking. She looks between the man and the gobbo. "You two get in a fisticuffs or something?"

Murder shrugs at Aragos. "Jus' saying, they're new, too." She slurps at her whiskey, and glances at the barkeep. "More curry, please?" The barman snorts. "Bottomless pit of a stomach...", he mutters as he turns away to fetch yet another bowl of curry.

She grins toothily at the man beside her, and looks to Zofija. "He won't fight women. But you can beat on him all you like, it seems."

The Gobbo peers at the Egalrin as she plummets to the floor. "First Egalrin I've seen sleeping while dangling from a rope. And no, we did not get into a uh... fistiwhatever."

The man lets the goblin talk for him, seemingly satisfied with her answer. Instead he drinks down his whiskey in one slide down his gullet and peers at Murder with a semi-drunken gleam in his eye. "It's like you didn't believe me the first time I said it. And I'm not a mas...mas... I don't enjoy being beaten, so I won't let a woman beat me up either. I told you I'd defend myself."

"Probably best you didn't finish that thought." The arvek-nar chuckles once she was sure the egalrin was back to their feet. "Suppose that's one of the benefits of being your kind. Feathers to break your fall a bit and all that. Still, didn't look pleasant. And thanks again, you've got a good eye for them, Slix."

Then she looks back to the goblin, and back to the man. "Seems you have yourself in a bit of a bind then. Don't want to fight women, but you'll defend yourself. So it sounds like you will fight them in that case, making the first statement false. A fight's a fight, even if you're not the one to throw the first blow after all."

"The /wings/ break the fall, shug," the Egalrin snaps a finger at her. "And of course, anytime~"

She looks between the Gobbo and the man, but she decides to chirp to the small one first. "Oh trust me, it's quite common back home for the us to sleep upside down!"

She thumbs her beak and sticks her tongue out briefly.

Now her chipper tune settles on the man. "Oh sugar, that just sounds like having a good ol' brawl with extra steps."

"And as I said, it's not really a fight if you won't fight back. I mean... there's no excitement." Murder shrugs, and then turns a little to stare at Slixvah. "In my time at the Aerie, I did not see any Egalrin sleeping upside like that." She chuckles and shakes her head, turning back to the bar, where her curry is waiting. As previously, she eats as though the world is ending in five minutes.

Between bites, she shrugs again. "It was a brawl with extra steps. No point to it." Murder casts a glance Zofija's way. "Nah, they'll totally just block or parry everything and not strike back. Saw it in their eyes."

"You can find it contradictory if you want." The dark-haired man says lightly to the hobgoblin. "But I won't strike a woman." There's something far-away in his gaze, and he looks away quickly, waving to the barkeep for another glass of what he's drinking. The bartender pours him a second round and he downs it right away, slamming it back so hard that it's clear he's not even tasting it. He gets a frown from the barkeep, but he ignores it. "Saw it in my eyes. Ha. I told you as much."

"Wings, feathers, they're kind of related. Don't know anything with feathers and no wings. Not every time though. Gotta help look out for yourself every now and then, Slix." Zofija shrugs. "That's not really defending yourself either, unless you're only doing that till you can flee. Prolonging the pain in that case. Anyways, not that big of a deal. Colosseum is a good place for that, and if you need a sparring partner, I'm sure I could make something work. Unless you're specifically trying to impress him, or something."

The Egalrin laughs, a wheezy sort with a little chirp in each breath. "Oh heavens me, sugar, Not many get to see the Aerie! I'm just messing with you," she giggles warm-heartedly.

She looks to the dark-haired man, some of her crown feathers standing up before a hand smooths them back down. "Muscles makes a good sparring partner, I've seen her work! But, good luck with that, munchkin," she coos, leaving that topic be.

"Speeeeaking of striking!" Or, maybe not. "I'm Slixvah, by the by! Call me Slix," she introduces, smiling so wide its impossible to see.

Because it is. Beaks don't smile. But her eyes twinkle like she is!

Murder stares at Zofija for a few moments. "I ain't trying t'impress anyone. Nor was I looking for sparring. He wanted the fight. He offered."

She snorts at the Egalrin and shakes her head. "I figured as much. Name's Murder. Nice to meetcha. Dunno his name, else I'd introduce ya two."

Glancing back to Aragos, she shrugs. "It is still evident in your expression." She drops a few coins onto the bartop, and gestures at Aragos. "Keep him in whiskey if he likes, barkeep."

She hops down from the barstool, and offers a jaunty salute. "I am going to go back to my den and sleep. See you." "It's Aragos. Not that you asked." Aragos offers finally, giving up his name and a little glare at Murder before flashing his teeth unplesantly at the bartender. "You heard the lady. More whiskey." He pushes his glass out for more and the bartender shakes his head.

"Can't rightly serve you anymore. You've had more than you should already."

Aragos growls at the bartender, leaning into the bartop his purple eyes flashing. "What right have you to decide?"

"I run the bar." Says the bartender, backing up a step from Aragos. "So what I say goes. And I say's: No more for you."

The dark-haired man lets go of the bar and thumps down onto the ground. "Guess I'll take my money elsewhere then."

The Goblin pauses, and turns to peer at Aragos. "I told you my name. You could have said yours." She shrugs. "You weren't paying him anyways, so what is he losing?" She huffs and heads for the door.

"You had me fooled, I was willing to think there were different aeries or something." Zofi chuckles. Though when the gobber speaks, she shrugs. "Sometimes people'll fight or wrestle trying to impress someone with a show of strength. Thought if that wasn't the case and you actually just wanted to spar, I'd offer. But you don't, so that's that. Name's Skyguard Zofija Voght, formerly of the 6th Blar cavalry regiment."

“And yes, they have the right as the person running the establishment. Simple as that."

Slixvah sighs and shakes her head. "Pleasure to meet you, loves."

She glances to the bartender, then nods lightly towards them. "If there's one thing I know about bars, no matter where you go, you don't piss 'em off, honey. Just get back in bed in one piece, alright?"

Her wing gives a little wave to the gobbo. "Later, sugar."

Aragos waves a hand at everyone, half good-bye and half shaking off their words. He makes for the door with slow easy steps, but he doesn't fall down. Doesn't even stumble. He seems more alright than he's a right to be considering all he's had to drink. He makes it to the front door and stops, glances over his shoulder and shakes his head before disappearing into the night wordlessly.

Zofi waves off the two, before finally getting her drink she was ordering with a grateful nod. "Well, that was a bit odd. I'd like to know what the two were looking for, because I'm nothing but confused after all that." Zofi admits. "Even more confused than finding you tied up to the ceiling, even now that I know that it isn't some secret egalrin sleeping technique."

"No, that was a secret egalrin mating technique, honey," Slix mentions without missing a beat.

But it doesn't last very long before she bursts into laughter again, her chirping with each inhale. She shakes her head and look over to the door. "You can say that again, muscles. That was right odd. Heavens forbid that man runs into a woman that's as deadly as sin."

"Sure it was. Right in the middle, or, upper middle of the tavern." Zofi snorts. "This tavern may not be the highest class, but it's not that classless." Zofi snorts into her drink. "Not that I mean that in a bad way, it takes all kinds of places to keep a city running, and moving smoothly."

"Just wonder what they were looking for, who's telling what. Fights without fighting, but not actually looking for a fight? Enough to make a head spin. But you're right. If I meet someone who needs to be dealt with, I'm not going to be concerned about things like that, what with the whole 'life on the line' thing."

Slix waves a dismissive ahnd. "Oh don't worry about that, muscles. I'm pretty open, but I'm not going to run a tavern's reputation into the dirt. I have my own to uphold!"

She giggles.

Then sighs. "Yes, best not to think too much about that. Perhaps there's something simple going on that they've got a vow about it or what have you. What ever. Not my roost to worry about."

She herself hasn't gotten anything to drink, and doesn't look like she will any time soon. "So, muscles. What's good?"

"I just thought it was interesting how blatant that lie was." The arvek-nar chuckles. "So, what was the real reason you were up there? Was it really to hide out from gamblers, or to mess with people coming through here, just for a bit of fun, or something else? I'm curious, seems like you've got a lot going through your head, even if you seem to be pretty relaxed most of the time."

"What's good? I suppose reaching Alexandria is, and having time to explore it a bit and relax for a time. And I've got some good company for drinks again, though I don't have any misplaced coins to pay for your drinks today, so that's less good."

Slix laughs. "It's called a joke, love." She shakes her head, looking up to the I-beam where she once hung from. "I was strung up from being too lucky at a game of cards. Honest. Barkeep didn't want blood in his place, I didn't want a fight. So... up I went!"

She turns slightly towards Zofi, a brow arching. "That I do, muscles. That I do. The important thing is knowing what stays in the ol' bird brain, and what gets squawked out!"

Her eyes light up at the mention of good company. A smile reaches them, and a wing unfolds to wrap around Zofi in a brief hug. "Now that's what I'm talkin' about! Don't worry about that this time, sugar. Let Slix take care of you today."

She winks. "And I just mean the drinks."

"Didn't say it wasn't a lie, Slix." Zofi snorts. "Just that it wasn't true. A lot of jokes are carried by a shred of factual fabrications, as it were."

The arvek-nar returns the hug with a nigh-crushing one of her own. The cavalier chuckles and flashes a broad grin to the egalrin. "Sounds good to me, Slix. But you gotta have fun yourself, it's not just about helping out others. Hell, if you need someone to carry you out to your inn room before the night's done, sure I could manage."

Something pops in the eaglefolk's back? Yeah, something does. But she just takes it like a champ and squeezes her wing tighter before pulling back. She giggles at the offer. "Oh, muscles, you going to do that for me?" she teases before gently punching the Arvek-Nar's shoulder. "Don't worry about it, sugar. If I wanted to fool around, I'd be long gone, with nothin' but feathers marking that I was even here."

She knocks on the bar twice, pointing to what the too-drunk human was having before putting some coin up for the both of them. "Now how's about this: you tell me how you got that pretty little bird to ride on, and I buy your drinks. Sound chic?"

"Course I would. Wouldn't be the first time I dragged a comrade in arms out from a bar on my shoulders." The arvek-nar chuckles, flexing her arm at the punch. "And you could do better than that, I'm not made of glass or anything."

"And I thought I was gonna get by with free drinks." Zofi mock huffs. "Suppose that's a more than fair trade, as long as I'm buying next time. And that's not even with me drinking more than I should to take advantage of it. You want to hear about how I ended up with a griffon like Screech? It's a long story, goes all the way back to just before I was leaving Blar-" The Arvek-nar begins, starting to regale the egalrin with the rather dry politics of mutual military training and donated troops to the myrrish kingdoms. There was still interesting parts, and no small hint of pride, but also a very businesslike understanding of all of it. And she was going to go on for as long as her drinking buddy would listen.